


Waiting

by hopeless_romantic_spoonie



Category: Kong: Skull Island (2017)
Genre: Almost sexual touching, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Implied Smut, Light Angst, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_romantic_spoonie/pseuds/hopeless_romantic_spoonie
Summary: A little bit of fluff about Conrad cuddles after he comes home from an assignment.
Relationships: James Conrad/Reader, James Conrad/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Waiting

Nine chimes. His flight should be landing soon.

Ten chimes. The app on your blindingly bright phone in the darkness of your living room shows that he landed on time. That was thirty minutes ago.

Eleven chimes, and you pretended that the anxiety curling in your stomach was because of the unsettling movie.

Just before twelve, when anxiety began to creep up into worry, the creak of the front door--he promised to fix it after this last assignment--reached your alert ears. You mapped his movements behind you, the quiet thud of his boots falling to the floor, a hushed curse bitten out in an achingly familiar voice, the tinkling of his keys settling in the bowl beside yours. Long strides, softened by the black socks you had packed for him, led him towards the canned laughter of the comedy you had put on to attempt to soothe your nerves.

Calloused fingertips traced down the side of your face, gently lifted your head for you to look at him. His stormy seawater eyes held such exhaustion that you longed to reach out and wrap him in the security of your embrace. You settled for cupping his hand against your cheek.

“You’re still awake,” he murmured, brow furrowing as he released his hold on you to come around to the front of the couch.

You shifted and sat up in your pile of plush blankets to offer him the space behind you. “I was worried about you.”

The sound of clothes hitting the floor accompanied his deft hands making quick work of his pants and tight grey t-shirt. Heat flushed your cheeks at the barest glimpse of auburn curls peppering his sternum and the sinful curve of his muscled thigh. With a minor amount of jostling, he settled against your back. The hook of his arms around your shoulders and stomach pulled you flush, curved back to strong, broad chest, as his lean legs encased your hips and wrapped around yours. 

Scruff from several days spent worrying about other matters more important than physical appearance rasped against your temple with his quiet, “There was an accident on the motorway, darling. My apologies.”

Turning your nose into his neck, you breathed him in deep into your drowning lungs. He smelled like the summer feels, warm, comforting, dry earth and soapy bubbles that filled your heart with a happy glow that spreads to the tip of your toes pressing into his lax calves.

The insistent press of his chin turned your head until it found a familiar home on the slope of his shoulder, angling your attention to the flickering lights of the television. Large hands slipped underneath the worn t-shirt you had nabbed from his side of the closet, mapping the soft skin of your stomach in gentle caresses that pricked goosebumps down your body. There was nothing forward about his movements, unhurried as they were, just exploring and enjoying as you paid more attention to the rush of his breath down your neck than the poorly delivered jokes in the movie.

Fatigue pulled at your heavy eyelids even as his hands found a comfortable position, one slipped just underneath the hem of your underwear, the other tenderly cupping the curve of your breast. Enough to stir the pits of your desires to life, squeezing your thighs together and murmuring wordless pleas of want low in your throat.

His silken voice shushed you as thin, expressive lips pressed into the sensitive spot just below your ear. “In the morning. Sleep with me now.”

Huffing out a halfhearted complaint, you settled further into his arms of softened steel, drifting into contented dreams by the steady stroke of his thumbs into pliant skin and the push of slow, steady breaths into your back.


End file.
